Who in the world is Abby Redfern?
by Michea
Summary: When Eric decides a human belongs to him, who is anyone to argue?  But who is she?  Where did she come from?  And is she really human?


Points to consider before you proceed:

This story does not take very much of season 3 or 4 into account.

_True Blood_ purists will notice I have deviated in some respects from the premise of the original series. Some characters that were "killed off" are still alive. Some relationships have taken on a different slant – fans of Eric/Sookie should probably stop reading right now. Fans of Bill/Sookie will be gratified to discover they are married and living their Happily Ever After in my version of events.

I have taken a few liberties when describing some places and people, but I believe that is the point of fiction.

If you don't like my work, don't read it. Simple.

If you *do* like it, then by all means let me know. I – not unlike Eric – enjoy tribute.

_**Hello**_

The pain in her chest was white fire. A pale face swam into view. A soothing voice which sounded echoey, and far away...

"What is your name?"

Images flickered through her mind.

"Abby... Red... fern..."

"Drink, Abby..."

The vessel pressed to her lips was cold, the fluid cool and viscous, chasing the white fire away and replacing it with soothing velvet, strong and fine as a spider's gossamer, sewing her torn flesh together and making it whole again.

"Uh-uh, that is enough now... Abby, stop! That is enough!"

She whimpered as the vessel was removed, the face replacing it in her field of vision. The eyes – cool and blue and ancient – softened the harsh words and became kind.

"Hold on," the voice told her. "Everything is going to be alright..."

_**All That I'm Living For**_

Pam grimaced. "It's rather... pitiful... isn't it?"

Eric glared at her. "_She_," he told her. "Not..._ it_." He glanced back at the sleeping girl and frowned. "Yes, she_ is_ rather pitiful," he agreed softly.

Pam rolled her eyes. "Eric, I really don't have time to take care of another one of your pets..."

"I'll take care of her."

"Until you become bored, and then I'll be stuck feeding it, taking care of it, keeping it out of trouble..."

"She!" He snarled, "Not it! She belongs to me and _I will take care of her_!"

"Whatever..." Pam wandered away and glanced out the window at the sky. "The sun will rise soon and what will you do if she wakes while you are resting?"

"She won't," said Eric. "She will sleep until nightfall."

"You can't know that..."

"I know it."

Pam arched a single perfect eyebrow at him. "My my," she drawled. "Aren't we attached to our new little play-thing?"

"You will not touch her..."

"I wouldn't bother," Pam snapped back. "She's not really my type."

Eric glanced at her. "Go home," he said softly, and watched her retreating figure. A thought occurred to him. "And bring some clothes for her when you return." His lips twitched into a half smile as the door slammed behind her. She would bring the clothes as he'd commanded. And they would be divine.

Eric turned and settled down to watch the girl sleep. Dark circles bruised her closed eyes and her skin was pale beneath the tanned and grimy surface. Her dark hair – cropped short – stuck out in filthy crazy angles from her small skull: as though she'd been living rough and hadn't had the opportunity to wash it in a month.

For all he knew, she had... and hadn't.

His blood – dried and flaking – caked her lips and chin. Without really knowing why he was doing it he fetched a clean bar towel, soaked it in cool water and knelt to clean the mess away. The girl stirred and murmured, then stilled as he hushed her. He rinsed the towel, wrung it out, then picked up each of her small hands and wiped away the worst of the blood and dirt. He grimaced, dissatisfied, but threw the towel into the laundry hamper. It would have to do until she had the opportunity to bathe properly.

Eric glanced at the windows, noting the thin light seeping around the edges of the worn blinds.

"I really must replace those with proper block-outs," he murmured in his native Swedish. He so rarely spent the day at the bar, it had hardly seemed necessary before. The small office in back was windowless, however, and would serve the purpose of a crypt. He leaned over and scooped the girl into his arms.

She would, he knew, sleep the day away but he had no intention of leaving her on the soft black leather chaise in the middle of the empty bar. She would sleep just as well on the old sofa in his office.

And he would sleep just as well on the floor next to her, between her and the door... much good that it would do while he was resting.

# # #

When Eric woke, he sensed the sun had set. Just. He rolled over... and froze.

Sometime during the day the girl had turned from her back to her side, and her arm hung limply over the edge of the sofa, her fingertips nearly brushing the carpet and inches from his own. As though she had reached out for him as she slept.

He slid backwards across the floor until his back rested against the filing cabinet, his arms propped against his knees, and watched as the girl stirred, and woke.

"Good evening," he said.

# # #

She sat up, wincing at the deep and itching ache in her chest and stared, unafraid, at the stranger across the room.

"Hello," she replied.

He gazed back, quiet and intent. His skin was unnaturally pale and waxen, his blond hair slicked back from his forehead in a slight widow's peak, and though he was sitting he gave the impression of powerful height. His eyes... she remembered those eyes from the night before. Cool and blue, inhuman and cruel and yet somehow... kind; and so very very old – slightly crinkled and careworn at the corners in an otherwise smooth and ageless face.

"Where am I?" She asked.

"Fangtasia," he told her.

"Fantasia?" Her mind conjured marching broomsticks and a terrified sorcerer's apprentice.

"_Fang-_tasia," he corrected, enunciating carefully. His expression insinuated she ought to know precisely what he was talking about.

"I see," she replied, although she did not. She glanced at the walls, adorned with posters. "Fang-tasia," she murmured, reading the words she saw. "Coors. Bud-weiser. Tru-blood."

"It is a bar," he told her. "Out there, I mean." He waved one hand in the general direction of the door.

"Fangtasia," she repeated, and smiled. The name amused her for some reason, and she felt as though she really _should _have known it was a bar, as he said.

"Do you know what I am?" He asked.

She regarded him carefully. _A man? Nothing more?_ She shook her head.

"I am vampire."

Another word he seemed to think she should understand.

"Of course," she said.

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

"I don't..." She began, shaking her head to clear it. "I don't remember... _anything_."

# # #

By the time Pam returned carrying a number of shopping bags, the girl had used the tiny bathroom facilities to shower; washing her hair with Eric's shampoo and using his gel-wax to return her flattened hair to its crazed spikes. The dark red _Fangtasia_ t-shirt fell almost to her knees and she exclaimed in delight as she dragged a tan and black linen dress, black silk underwear and tan pumps from the bags.

Displaying not a shred of modesty, she dragged the t-shirt off over her head as Eric hastily turned his back and shot an astonished glance at his assistant. Pam shrugged and murmured a Swedish expression which translated roughly to English as 'uncultured slattern'. After a few minutes, Eric risked a look over his shoulder and caught sight of her, fully dressed, slipping her feet into the pumps.

"Thank you," she said to Pam. "These are beautiful."

She wasn't, Eric realised, kissing up to Pam in the way most humans usually did to most vampires. She was simply expressing genuine and honest gratitude.

"Don't mention it," Pam replied drily, turning on her heel to leave.

"Your taste is exquisite," Eric called after her in Swedish.

"You don't have to sound so surprised," she retorted.

Eric grinned and turned back to the girl, addressing her in English. "You must be hungry."

"I am."

"Come, there is food. And Ginger will fetch any drink you require." He placed his palm against the small of her back and ushered her into the bar.

"Thank you," she said again. "I... I don't even know your name."

If it were possible for a vampire to flush in embarrassment, Eric would have done so. "I apologise for my appalling manners," he said. "I am Eric Northman, Sheriff of Area 5."

"And I am..." the girl paused, frowning.

"Abby Redfern," he finished for her. "You told me last night."

"Right..." the girl smiled tentatively.

Eric returned the smile. "This way." He watched for a moment as she fell gratefully to her breakfast.

Mentally, he checked off the points which did not make sense:

Far from being up and about and dancing around like a demented chimpanzee following a dose of his powerful, thousand-year-old blood, the girl had lain practically comatose for nearly 18 hours straight. Check.

Far from being completely and instantly healed, she moved carefully as though she were still in pain, and Eric had seen the scars on her chest and back where the arrow had pierced the skin and torn through to the other side. Not clear and flawlessly vampire-healed skin. Scars. Check.

She had woken in a vampire nest and was not only completely unafraid but barely seemed to understand the meaning of the word 'vampire'. No whining: "are you going to kill me?" No annoyingly sultry: "please bite me then fuck the shit out of me." Nothing in between those two human extremes of reaction when faced with fangs. Just simple, bewildered acceptance and good manners. Check.

She appeared to remember nothing about the previous night. That, he reasoned, was not unusual. But she barely even remembered her own name. Check.

Eric turned to Pam. "Get me Bill Compton on the phone," he said. "Something is not right here. I need Sookie."

# # #

"Don't be afraid..."

"Why would I be afraid?"

Sookie eyed Eric askance and, receiving no encouragement, widened her smile and took the girls hands in hers. "Close your eyes and just... open your mind. Let me in."

The girl did as she was bid, closing her eyes and feeling the blond woman's mind like gentle fingers probing into her head. The images came almost immediately...

"Sesame Street... pink fairy-thing... blood on..." Sookie opened her eyes. "Abby..."

"Abby Cadabby, from Sesame Street," the girl finished for her, nodding. "I saw that too."

"And blood-soaked fronds. Red... ferns..."

"Abby Red-fern," murmured Eric.

"That's not my name," insisted the girl.

"Then what _is _your name?" Sookie asked.

"I have no idea."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one," she replied promptly.

"How do you know that?" Eric asked.

The girl flushed. "I don't," she admitted. "But I'd have to be at least twenty-one to work in a bar, wouldn't I?" She glanced at Ginger, who was polishing glasses.

"And how do you know _that_?" Bill wanted to know.

"And what makes you think you'll be working in my bar?" Eric put in. The girl smiled at him and tilted her head in a charming manner. He glared at her fiercely for a moment while she stared him down, and he cut his eyes away, annoyed. "Yes, you can work in the bar," he muttered eventually. The girl's grin widened. "Look deeper," Eric demanded of Sookie.

Sookie tried again. After a while she opened her eyes and shook her head at Eric. "There's really nothing there," she said, her eyes wide and bewildered.

"Like she's been glamoured?" Bill suggested.

"I don't think she _can_ be glamoured," said Sookie, turning to Bill. "Try it."

"Abby..." He took her hand. "Can you feel my influence?"

The girl gazed into his earnest blue-grey eyes for a moment then glanced at Sookie. "What am I supposed to be feeling?" She whispered to the other woman. Bill dropped her hand in embarrassment.

Sookie grinned in spite of herself. "He can't do it to me either," she said gleefully. "He gets awful mad when it doesn't work!"

"Let me try," Eric murmured. He pressed one finger against her chin and turned her face gently towards him. "Abby..."

"That's not my name..."

"It's as good a name as any," he said, his voice soft and cajoling. "It suits you very well... Abigail Redfern."

Abby nodded. "I agree with you," she told him. She reached up and removed his hand from her face. "But I'm still not feeling any 'influence'." She made air-quotes with her fingers.

"I just made you take a name that wasn't yours!"

"No, I agreed it was a good name, but I did that of my own free will."

"Well, if she hasn't been glamoured, then what?"

Abby looked expectantly at Sookie, who shrugged helplessly at her.

"It's like there's nothing there at all, like you were... I don't know... called into existence..."

"At the very moment I needed you to take a stake for me," Eric finished.

Abby's eyes widened. "Is _that _what happened?"

"Well, it was actually a silver-tipped ash-wood cross-bow bolt, but for all intents and purposes it would have acted as a stake had it entered _my _chest."

Abby stared at Eric, then glanced at Bill and Sookie, and back at Eric again. "And I survived that exactly... how?"

Pam made a noise of disgust as she approached the group, catching the last part of the conversation. "Eric, you need to educate your pet," she opined.

"I will attend to that, Pam..."

"If she is capable of learning..."

"Pam..." Eric warned.

"She_ is_ extraordinarily intelligent," Sookie told Pam.

"Oh, please," Pam snorted. She eyed Eric and addressed him over the others' heads in Swedish. "She is stupid."

Abby's head whipped around and she glared at the Sheriff's progeny. "Miss DeBeauford," she said icily. "There is a vast difference between stupidity and the mere ignorance of the uninformed." She smiled as Pam's eyes widened and switched to Swedish. "And I understand every word you say."

Sookie glanced at Bill, then Eric. "What was that?"

Eric fought down a grin. "Miss Redfern just demonstrated her 'extraordinary intelligence' to Miss DeBeauford."

"You know Swedish." It was a statement not a question.

"I do now," Abby told Pam.

"What does that mean, 'I do now'?" Pam demanded, drawing up a chair and seating herself across from Abby.

"That's impossible," Eric murmured.

"It's not _impossible_, you both jabber on in Swedish to each other! I simply picked it up!"

"_Nej_." Pam spat.

"_Ja_." Abby replied.

Bill narrowed his eyes. He leaned over and said in French: "Do you know how to speak _this _language?"

Abby shook her head, confused. "I... I don't know what that means," she said, looking from Bill to Eric, and back at Bill again.

"But if you heard it some more..." Bill continued in French. He turned to Eric. "Would you say the weather in this region is superior to that in Paris?"

"Absolutely my friend, it is warmer, the ladies wear very little and I can parade around in very little myself for all to admire!"

Bill laughed, Pam rolled her eyes and Abby was beginning to smile.

"You are a very vain man, Mr Northman, I am surprised you are not in love with your own mirror," she told him in perfectly accented French.

Bill roared and Eric sat back, smiling in spite of the insult. "That _is _extraordinary!"

# # #

Seated at the bar, Sookie glanced over her shoulder then smiled back at the younger woman. "Do you think they know we're talking about them?" She asked playfully.

Abby shifted her position and looked past Sookie to the men. They appeared to be deep in conversation. She returned her attention to Sookie. "They know," she said. "Or at least, Eric does."

"You have a blood bond," said Sookie, and Abby nodded.

"From what I understand," Abby said, "I drained him half dry when he saved me."

"It only takes a drop," Sookie told her ruefully. "Especially with one as old as Eric." She sipped her gin and tonic and looked over at the men again, her expression softening as she gazed at her husband. "Bill and I have shared blood, back and forth, so many times... but I still can't read his thoughts."

"I can't read thoughts... not in words, anyway," Abby said. "I can sense feelings and see occasional images, especially with Eric, but that's it. I'm not a telepath. Not like you."

"You're still useful to him," Sookie said sourly.

"You don't like Eric very much, do you?"

"I don't trust him. He's arrogant, and manipulative. He'll do anything to get what he wants. He's a cruel monster..."

"He's not..."

"He _is,_ Abby," Sookie insisted. "Don't fool yourself into thinking he isn't. He tortures and kills humans..."

"And Bill hasn't?"

Sookie looked away. "Bill isn't like that. Not... not anymore."

Abby raised an eyebrow at her, then shrugged and sipped her drink. "Okay," she said, reluctant to argue. "I just don't believe Eric is as bad as you make out. He saved my life and has barely left my side since. He has bathed, fed and clothed me. He's trying to help me find out who I am. He has been nothing but kind and gentle..."

Sookie looked past Abby and paled visibly. "Oh fudge," she murmured.

"What?" Abby whipped her head around, her eyes locking immediately on a swarthy bearded vampire. She turned back to Sookie. "Who is that?"

"Stan Davis. He's from Area 9 in Dallas," whispered Sookie. Her face twisted into an unconscious expression of deep disgust. "He is a third rate jerk of the highest order..."

"That would make him a _first_ rate jerk..."

"He _wishes_ he was the Sheriff of his area and he'd like nothing more than to start a war between vampires and humans..."

"Productive..."

"And oh, double fudge, he's coming this way..."

"Good evening," oiled Stan, taking Sookie's hand and kissing it. "Miss Stackhouse... excuse me... _Mrs _Compton."

"Hello Stan," Sookie said coolly, dragging her hand away from his.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend...?"

In an instant, Eric was at her side. "Abby belongs to me," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You what...?"

Sookie threw an elbow into Abby's ribs. "Just go with it!" She whispered urgently.

Abby smiled tentatively at Stan and moved a little closer to Eric.

"Abby, is it?" Asked Stan. "A pleasure..."

"Did you not hear me?"

"I heard you, Viking." He smiled condescendingly at Abby. "Relax. I'm not interested in your human."

"You're not welcome here."

Stan looked at Bill, who had moved to stand protectively over Sookie, and back at Eric. "Honestly, Eric, you're getting as bad as _him_." He lifted his chin at Bill. Eric opened his mouth and Stan held up his hand. "Don't bother, I was just leaving..."

When he was gone, Abby turned to Eric. "Were you really a Viking?"

"I really was."

"And do I really... uh... belong to you?"

Eric grimaced. "That's... a little more complicated."

"No it isn't," said Bill. "If you claim she belongs to you, then she belongs to you."

"Don't I get a vote?" Asked Abby.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Sneered Eric, as though she hadn't spoken.

Bill smiled coldly. "Nothing would make me happier," he said.

"Oh, not this again," muttered Sookie, wedging herself between the two men. "Bill, honey, time to go." She glanced at Abby as she began tugging her husband towards to exit. "Abby, we'll do lunch... or something. Eric." She nodded to the blond vampire.

Bill glared at Eric but allowed himself to be led towards the exit. Abby watched Eric watching them, observing the half smile on his face and filing it – and the incident which had preceded it – for study at a later date.

"So," she said loudly, startling Eric out of reverie. "It's... complicated?"

_**The Only One**_

Temporarily relieved from her position as Door Bitch, Pam stalked into the bar and surveyed the revellers. She was in the mood for something a little different tonight... something young and fragile and innocent and, strangely, male... She spied a young man kitted out in black leather and eyeliner glancing nervously around and sipping at his beer.

"Perfect," she murmured. She would keep an eye on him until his anxiety level reached its peak and then invite him to...

Her eyes narrowed, then she shook her head.

"Eric!" She snapped, standing over him. He eyed her lazily from his usual chair, all feline sprawl and arrogant manner.

"Pam."

"What is that human doing behind the bar?"

"Serving drinks, I believe..."

"Don't be funny..."

"I didn't force her, if that's what you're insinuating."

"I'm not insinuating anything of the sort!" Pam snarled, her eyes blazing. "I mean what is that human, who you have known barely two days, doing serving drinks and handling your money behind the bar?"

"I don't see the problem..."

"Shouldn't she be grovelling at your feet and gazing up at you in adoration?"

"Somehow," Eric began. "I cannot imagine Abby grovelling _for_ or gazing in adoration _at anyone_."

"Eric, you need to keep better control over..."

"Firstly, Pam," he snapped, biting off each word. "You are overstepping your position. Secondly..." He glanced at the bar and his lips thinned as he watched the girl smile charmingly and accept a tip of what looked to be double the price of a bottle of Tru-blood. She didn't pocket the money, he noticed, but placed it in a jar she'd installed next to the cash register. "Secondly," he repeated. "She is where I can keep an eye on her and she is making herself useful." He glanced at his progeny, then at the door. "Might I suggest you do the same?"

# # #

As the night grew closer to day, the drunken humans were fed upon and tossed out one by one and the vampires retired to their nests, leaving the bar relatively empty except for a few members of staff.

Abby cast a side-long glance at Eric as he sidled up to the bar and sat down. She caught an image of long, flowing, blond hair from his mind, and a feeling of bemusement.

"Go ahead and say it," she said.

"Say what?"

"What you're thinking."

"How would you know what I'm thinking?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and he grimaced, annoyed. "You're thinking 'why doesn't she grow her hair long like Sookie's?'"

Eric winced.

"Why do you put bleach through_ your_ hair?" She asked him, nodding at the foils Pam had just finished. "Aren't you _blond_ enough?"

Eric's mouth thinned, his brow furrowed but he remained seated at the bar.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Honestly," she said. "I don't know for certain if you _are _actually the vainest man I've ever met – given my memory loss and all – but I'd _still _be willing to bet money that you are." She dropped the last glass into the dispenser and turned back to him. "So... what is it with you and Sookie Compton?"

"There is nothing between me and Sookie," Eric muttered.

"Uh huh," Abby drawled.

"It's... complicated."

# # #

Eric blinked and looked up at Pam as she plucked the last piece foil from his hair. "Huh?"

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"

"Sorry Pam, I'm…"

"Distracted? Hungry? Horny? I've noticed. Now will you please just take her downstairs and screw her because I am not going to get any sense out of you until you do!"

"Who… Abby?"

Pam rolled her eyes. "Who do you think?"

"No." Eric's voice was low and dangerous.

"Then take someone else, I don't care."

Eric glared murderously at Pam for a moment. Then: "Ginger…"

Pam raised an eyebrow.

"Stay with Abby," Eric told the older woman. "Do not leave her side, do you understand?"

"Yessir, Mr Northman," Ginger breathed, delighted to be trusted to watch over her employer's chosen human.

Eric fixed Pam with a hard stare. "If you, or anyone else, touches her…"

"You'll kill us all, blah de blah blah blah!" Pam shook her head. "Just go."

"Jesminda," Eric called. "With me…"

# # #

It was entirely unsatisfactory, Eric decided, to hurry both feeding and fucking. He had done neither since Abby's arrival.

Hollow but with no appetite, aroused but detached, he watched the young dancer as she gyrated in front of him, singing softly under her breath in Hindi. His mind wandered, half listening to the tune, half listening out for Abby.

She wasn't in any danger. He could tell. She was, in fact, relaxed and happily chatting to Ginger – the older woman extravagantly extolling his virtues and bringing her up to date on vampire rights and the different laws between states. _Good, one less thing I'll have to... what is that god-awful singing...?_

Though he was not as fluent in Hindi he was in other languages, he understood the gist: something about _my lover returning to me _and _how I hunger for your touch... _It was, he realised, a mangled Indian version of _Unchained Melody..._

"_Chopre he randi_," he snapped. Jesminda trailed off, her eyes wide and hurt. "Just... shut up... you silly child."

"Would you like me to sing something else?"

"No singing..." He stepped up to her and brushed her heavy black hair away from her neck. "Just..." He bunched it in his fist at her nape, tugging her head back. "Shut up..."

# # #

Abby watched as the girl emerged from the basement, swaying slightly as she collected her bag and wandered out the door. She caught a lilting melody from the girl's fogged mind and a few words of a language she had yet to learn.

Eric appeared not long afterwards, the dye washed out of his hair and wearing fresh clothes.

"Come," he commanded softly, avoiding her eye. "I refuse to spend another day sleeping in that office."

_**Taking Over Me**_

Eric pushed open the door and flicked a switch, flooding the foyer with warm, muted light. Abby followed him through room after tastefully decorated room on the first floor, only half listening to his murmured explanations and staring all around her.

As they started up the curved staircase, Abby trailed her fingertips over the polished balustrade. "Your home is very beautiful," she said.

"Thank you."

"You must be wealthy."

"I am comfortable," Eric allowed. "I do not spend a lot of time here." He thought for a moment. "Awake," he amended. "Plus, it's not as though I need spend a fortune on groceries..." he trailed off and glanced at Abby. "I probably do now..."

Abby shot him a look. "I don't eat _that_ much," she said.

"You have consumed your own body weight in food three times over in the last couple of days," he pointed out.

"I was shot through the chest with a cross-bow," she reminded him. "One would assume that a body requires a lot of energy to heal from such a wound."

"I gave you my blood," said Eric, "which should have been more than sufficient to do the job... and then some."

"Well," said Abby. "Maybe _your blood_ is not as powerful as you think it is."

Eric seethed. "My blood is every bit as powerful as I think it is," he growled. He indicated a set of double-doors. "_My _room," he said tersely. He pushed open another door and ushered her inside. "_Your_ room."

"Thank..." she winced as a door slammed. "...you..." she finished softly to the empty room.

# # #

When Abby woke it was around noon and her room was stifling. She rolled over and tried to make herself comfortable, but the temperature in the room combined with the fact that her body clearly remembered day-time was awake-time even if her mind did not, made it impossible to go back to sleep. With a sigh, she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed and scruffed up the back of her spiky hair.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains and with some difficulty, Abby managed to unlock the window and yank up the sash just enough to allow a tiny breeze to circulate through her room and cool her sweaty skin. She stretched, then ran the palms of her hands over her breasts and belly, delighting in the silky feel of the negligee she wore.

Eric had informed her that in spite of the fact that his bar was populated by mostly-naked dancers most nights, he expected her to dress modesty. In spite of this, all of the sleeping garments she'd been provided with were appropriate only for a bride on her wedding night. Abby could almost believe Pam was trying to get her into trouble.

She pulled on a short-sleeved silk kimono, picked up the matching slippers and cracked open the door of her room, peering into the dark hallway.

Abby paused in front of the heavy double doors Eric had indicated was his, placing a palm on the solid oak panelling. She thought better of waking him in the middle of the day, however, and padded downstairs.

In the kitchen (_why does a vampire have a kitchen?_ She wondered briefly) she drew a glass of water from the tap, drank it down, refilled it and carried it over to the bay window in the drawing room. At the bottom of the vast garden Abby could see a powerfully-built black man, stripped naked to the waist and wearing a white kerchief over his skull, trimming a hedge with an old-fashioned pair of loppers.

Slipping on the delicate shoes, Abby left the house and wandered down the white-quartz path towards the man. He raised his head as her feet crunched on the gravel and gave a tiny bow in acknowledgement, setting aside the loppers.

"Hello," he said. His voice was as deep and rich as treacle. "My name is Sirach. Mr Northman told me you'd been joining him at his residence, Miss Abby."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Sirach." Said Abby, as unsurprised the gardener knew her name as he appeared to be at seeing her in the middle of the day, dressed for the middle of the night. "Your gardens are beautiful."

"Well, thank you, Miss Abby. Would you like me to show them to you?"

"Please."

They wandered along the paths and Sirach pointed out the plumbago hedges, the perfectly manicured lawns, and a spectacular wisteria in riotous flower covering a sun-bleached arbour. In one corner of the yard was a perfectly maintained vegetable garden and Sirach explained that his employer allowed him to keep all the produce.

"Of course," he amended. "You're welcome to use as much as you like yourself. Mr Northman has no use for vegetables, but I suspect _you _might, eh!"

At the edge of one of the lawns, Sirach hunkered down and invited Abby to do the same, and they inspected a group of purple asters.

"These are heliotropes." He pronounced the word carefully for her. "Do you know what those are?"

Abby shook her head.

"They turn their little faces to the sun as it moves across the sky and at night, the close their little petals and go to sleep!" He beamed at her.

Abby touched one of the petals with the tip of her finger. "Why plant such a thing in a vampire's garden?" She wondered out loud.

"Oh, Mr Northman gives me free reign to plant whatever I see fit," Sirach told her. "He say garden is not just for him, but for those who live it the light and see it by day."

"I see," murmured Abby.

"Garden is beautiful at night as well, though, and there are flowers which produce their most beautiful perfume in the middle of the night... come." He ushered her to the boundary fence and pressed his face into the tiny jasmine blossoms, inhaling deeply.

Abby copied the black man, then smiled at him.

"You come back out here at midnight, you see what I mean." He told her. Then: "Mr Northman loves the jasmine."

"Then I shall take some back to the house with me," Abby told him. He obligingly took out a pair of parrot-nosed secateurs and snipped a number of fine boughs for her, arranging them like a bridal bouquet for her to carry.

"Put those straight in water," he advised her. "They won't last long, even so."

"I will," said Abby. "Thank you Sirach."

"You're very welcome, Miss Abby. And you are welcome here. Come and visit with me if you're able... don't get too many visitors."

Abby frowned. "Haven't there been others?"

"Others, Miss Abby?"

"Before me. Other humans. Companions of Eric?"

Sirach chuckled, deep and sonorous. "Oh no, Miss Abby, Mr Northman doesn't have_ human_ companions."

Abby thanked the gardener again and left him to his pruning, carrying the bouquet of jasmine back to the house with her. In the kitchen she located another water glass and arranged the flowers in it, then padded around the house, touching various items. In the library she pulled a leather-bound book from the shelf at random and discovered it contained Swedish folk tales. She found the written word far more difficult to understand and follow than the language she'd picked up with supernatural speed at _Fangtasia_, but Abby decided it would do her no harm to exert her mind, and she carried the book along with her glass of water back up to her room.

She did not pause as she passed Eric's door.

# # #

Eric wedged his enormous frame into one of the chairs at the breakfast bar and watched Abby while she prepared her meal. He picked up the cardboard box and peered inside, fished out a sachet, then eyed Abby as she picked sultanas out of the oaty mixture in her bowl. They had shopped for groceries the evening before, an experience that had delighted Abby and baffled Eric: the sheer abundance and range of choice had hurt his head.

"Why purchase..." he glanced at the box again "... 'apple and sultana porridge' and remove all the sultanas?"

"I don't like sultanas."

"Then buy just apple porridge."

"They don't _make _'just apple porridge' they only make apple and sultana, or mixed berries, or golden syrup, or brown sugar, and I don't like any of those flavours," she told him. "I _like_ the apple."

Eric considered this for a moment as he watched her chase the few remaining sultanas around the bowl before rolling them into the empty sachet and tossing them in the bin.

"You're just going to throw them out?"

Abby ignored him and added a handful of dried apricot pieces to the mixture, then water and milk, and popped the bowl into the newly purchased microwave. Eric watched in fascination and faint disgust as she began spooning the warm gelatinous mixture into her mouth.

"Are you really going to watch me eat?"

"It is a little... off-putting," he admitted. He lifted his chin at the bowl. "And that doesn't look very appetising."

"Well it wouldn't, to _you_, would it?"

"No, even by human standards, I don't think I could eat _that_."

Abby tilted her head to one side and looked at him properly for the first time that evening. "What _did_ you eat?"

"As a human, you mean?"

Abby nodded.

"Well, living near the sea, fish was a stable of my diet..."

"I don't like fish..." She caught his expression. "Sorry. Go on."

"And we made use of other food from the sea: whales, seals, seaweed, shellfish."

Abby filled her empty bowl with warm water, set it aside to soak, and propped her chin on her hand, gazing at Eric with rapt attention.

"We hunted meat..."

"What sort?"

"Whatever was available. Wild boar, deer, elk, rabbit... occasionally bear..."

"Bear, seriously?"

"I only had it once, as a child, but I seem to recall it was..." he trailed off and smiled at the memory "... incredibly juicy and tender. The flesh was rich... and marbled with fat..." Eric's fangs popped out and Abby stifled a giggle. He shot her an annoyed glance and retracted them. "We had gardens for vegetables, grain to make bread, honey to sweeten things..."

"Honey..."

Eric leaned close and smiled wickedly. "Vikings love sweet things," he told her. Abby held her breath as he gazed into her eyes, wondering dimly if he was about to kiss her. Then he sat back and the moment passed. "And drink," he went on as though nothing had happened. "Always the drink... beer, mead..." He glanced at the bin. "And food was often scarce," he said quietly, looking at Abby pointedly. "Nothing went to waste."

Abby flushed. She fished the crumpled porridge sachet out of the bin and tipped the discarded sultanas into a ceramic canister on the counter.

"What is that?"

"Compost," said Abby.

"Compost?"

"For the garden..." she prompted. She lifted the lid and tipped the open mouth of the vessel in Eric's direction, revealing a mouldering jumble of tea leaves, coffee grounds, fruit and vegetable peel, and the unwanted sultanas.

"How long have I had a midden?" He wondered out loud. Abby frowned at the unfamiliar word but picked the image of an old-fashioned compost pile out of his mind.

"Sirach uses it on the vegetable garden..."

"How long have I had a _vegetable garden_?"

Abby stared at him incredulously, then began to laugh. "Come on, I'll show you..."

In the corner of the tastefully lit garden, Eric stared in wonder at the 30 foot square plot of growing vegetables. "I need to come out here more often," he murmured.

"Sirach told me you knew about this."

"Yes..." said Eric vaguely. He shook his head and focused on Abby. "Yes," he repeated, this time with more confidence. "He probably mentioned it. I don't really listen to humans..."

# # #

"Humans and vampires _do_ have rather different concepts of ownership," Eric explained. "But it is also the simplest way I have of keeping you safe."

"Claiming ownership of me?"

"Yes."

"So you just say 'that human is mine' and other vampires just take it as Gospel?" Abby asked.

"Well... yes and no," said Eric, half amused and half annoyed at Abby's uncanny impression of him. "For the most part it is considered Law, or Gospel as you put it, especially if the vampire in question is particularly powerful..."

"Like you?"

Eric chose to ignore her sarcastic tone. "Like me," he agreed. "However, if a more powerful vampire decides he wants a lesser vampire's human, he can treat the Law as a courtesy rather than an actual Law. Of course, he is going to lose influence and loyalty if he continues to exploit his underlings in that way, so for the most part it continues to provide effective protection for the humans in question."

"So..." Abby began slowly, in the mood to provoke him. "If, for example, _Bill Compton_ decided to feed on me..."

"Then I would kill him!" Eric flared, rising to the bait. He grimaced at the look of triumph on her face. "Or... I would present him to the proper authorities who would more than likely have Bill's fangs removed."

Abby raised one eyebrow, unimpressed.

"This, in addition to being extraordinarily painful, would render most _normal _vampires unable to feed again until their fangs grew back." Eric told her. He rolled his eyes. "Bill, however, would survive quite nicely as he exists mainly on Tru-blood, which does not require fangs. Additionally, Sookie would probably willingly slit her own throat so that he might feed on her."

"Huh." She said, propping her chin on her hand and watching him carefully. "So..." he lifted his head and shot her a glance, warning her not to provoke him further. "So, can you 'own' more than one human at any one time?"

Eric eyed her for a moment, searching for a trap in her question and finding none. "Some do. Some, like Bill, are monogamous with their humans."

"You make it sound like a sexual relationship..."

"It often is," said Eric. "Although Bill claimed ownership of Sookie, and formed a blood bond with her, long before they became lovers."

"_You_ share a blood bond with Sookie, too..."

_There it is_, thought Eric. "That's different. It's..."

"Complicated," Abby finished for him. "Yes, I imagine it is."

"I share a blood bond with other humans," Eric told her. "Her friend, Lafayette Reynolds, required my blood to heal from a gunshot wound..."

"After you'd held and tortured him for weeks," Abby shot back. She noted his expression. "Sookie told me," she said. "She also told me how your blood bond with _her _came about."

"Did she?" Eric asked tiredly.

"Why would you _do_ something like that?" She demanded.

"Abby," he said, rubbing his eyes. "Why do want to quarrel with me?"

"Why don't you want to feed from me?"

Eric blinked in surprise. "What makes you think I don't?"

"Because you never have."

"Abby..." he sighed, moving towards her.

"Don't bother," she said, getting up. "I'm going to bed."

_**Whisper**_

Eric glanced over Abby's shoulder at the image on the Ipad's screen and his face twisted into sneer. The smarmy smiling face of Reverend Steve Newlin beamed sunnily back at him.

"That human," Eric growled. "Has caused more problems for my kind than you can possibly imagine."

Abby glanced up at him, then back at the screen. "I know," she murmured. "I just read all the archives." She tapped the screen to erase the image and looked up at the vampire, a concerned frown bunching her pretty features. "How can someone see so clearly the vicious and bestial side of one race, and yet fail so completely to see it in his own?" She asked him.

Eric touched her cheek and smiled slightly. "If you can answer _that_, you may solve many of our problems," he told her. "And don't frown like that, it is unbecoming."

Abby poked her tongue out at him.

"That isn't attractive, either," said Eric. He pulled out a chair, turned it around and straddled it backwards, leaning over the chair-back to look at her. "Aside from the very dregs of humanity, what have you been learning about today?"

"Wars," she told him, waking the Ipad and calling up pictures of Hitler, Stalin and Churchill. "Arrogant posturing men, if this planet was run by women we wouldn't have half the problems..."

Eric chuckled indulgently. "Anything else, or are you concentrating on the most boring parts of military history? The Viking wars..."

"I can ask _you_ about," she finished for him. "I don't need the internet for _that_." She turned back to the screen. "I also found some recipes for Tru-blood cocktails... don't know how popular they'll be..." She shrugged.

"We can give them a try."

"We? _You're_ going to try them?"

"Not even if you paid me," he told her, standing up and returning the chair to its rightful position. "I'll invite Bill and Sookie around though, if you like, you can try them out on him."

"Get them to bring Jessica..."

"Perhaps," Eric winced at the memory of caring for Bill's young progeny the first fortnight of her vampiric life. "Will you be joining me at _Fangtasia _this evening?" He asked her.

Abby wheeled around and raised an eyebrow. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. However, I will not leave you alone and unguarded so I'd have to send Pam around to babysit..."

"Forget it, I'm coming," Abby replied hastily, pushing the Ipad into her backpack.

Eric grinned and turned to leave. They both knew it was an empty threat. Leaving Pam and Abby alone together would be the quickest way for Pam to end Abby's young life, and for Pam to wind up in front of the Magister for fang-removal... _if_ Eric allowed her to live that long. The Sheriff had absolutely no intention of losing both his human _and_ his beloved progeny. He was unsure what his long-term plans for Abby _were_, but he was certain they wouldn't include handing her over to Pam's delicate mercies.

# # #

Pam sneered as she watched the human pull the flat little computer from her bag and settle down to study at one of the corner tables.

"Your little pet still taking her correspondence course?"

Eric eyed her balefully. "You could at least_ try_ to be nice to her," he suggested.

Pam appeared to consider this for a moment. "No," she said slowly. "No, I really couldn't."

"She's not going anywhere, Pam." Eric reminded her. "I suggest you get used to her."

"Where have you been the last couple of nights, anyway?"

"At home, with the girl," he told her. "Teaching her. Talking to her..."

"Screwing her..."

Eric turned slowly on his heel. "Not that it's any of your business, but no."

Pam rolled her eyes. "Then why _bother _with her?" She asked, exasperated. "That little toy of hers cost you a small fortune." She eyed the tablet Abby was using distastefully.

"So did those shoes," Eric countered, glancing at Pam's footwear. "In fact..." he held his hand out. Reluctantly, Pam slipped off one pump and handed it to him. He inspected it carefully. "I'm willing to bet _these_ cost me more." He raised an eyebrow at her and handed it back.

"You owed me a pair of shoes," she grumped, leaning on his arm to slip the shoe back on.

"Which is why I'm letting you keep them," he said.

_**Bring Me To Life**_

_They stood holding hands on the very apex of the steeply pitched roof, the night breeze billowing her dress and his shirt._

"_Should I jump?" She asked._

"_No need to jump," he told her. "Just… let go…"_

_As he said it they rose gracefully into the air and she squealed, clinging to him as he laughed delightedly._

"_I can fly!" She cried._

"_No," he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "_I_ can fly. _You_ cannot."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_Let go of me and find out," he invited._

_She looked down at the ground turning in lazy circles many metres below her feet. "No thank you," she said, turning in his arms. "I never want to let go of you."_

_He smiled and touched her shoulder… and their clothes melted away to nothing until they were skin to skin, mid-air and spinning faster and faster as he entered her, pressing his mouth against the skin of her neck and…_

Abby sat up in bed, breathing heavily and staring all around. _Alone_, she thought. _Not outside. Not flying. Not naked and making love with Eric… _She looked down at herself and snatched her hands from between her legs, blushing in mortification.

A glance out the window was sufficient to register the sun had just set and she let herself out of her room and padded down the hallway to the bathroom.

Abby ran cold water into the sink, leaning heavily on the basin with her head bowed and eyes closed, trying desperately to gather her thoughts. She splashed cold water on her face and reached for a fluffy towel to dry. She opened her eyes to Eric's face reflected in the mirror.

Lightening-fast he was upon her, his arm around her waist and pressing her to him as he pushed her chin aside to expose her throat.

The carotid artery pulsed rhythmically and Eric scented her blood just below the surface, tracing the vessel with the tip of his tongue and scraping his fangs against her skin… dimpling without puncturing.

Abby's hand stole up his arm and across his shoulder to bury her fingers in the short hair at his nape, breathing in his scent of cold ocean wind, and salt, and freedom. The bathroom sink dug painfully into her lower back and she could feel Eric's erection pressing against her stomach.

With a supreme act of will, Eric retracted his fangs and pushed himself away. He pressed his forehead briefly to hers, as though in apology, and then he was gone.

# # #

Abby tapped on the door twice and let herself in. She closed the door quietly behind her and leaned against it, watching Eric. He sat slumped on the bed, bloody tears streaming down his face and her heart broke for the misery she saw etched there.

"What is it?" She asked him.

"I am afraid," he whispered.

"Of me?"

"Of hurting you."

"You would never hurt me…"

"I might…"

"You won't." Abby told him firmly. She touched his tears delicately with the tip of one finger, slicking the blood between the pads of her thumb and forefinger. "It is always like this? When you cry, I mean."

"Yes," said Eric. "Which is one of the reasons I try not to…" he swiped at his face with one hand, smearing the blood.

"Such a mess," Abby murmured. "Hold on..." She ran to the bathroom and soaked a wash-cloth with water, wringing it out and returning to Eric's room. Gently, she wiped away his bloody tears, turning the cloth and folding it to use all the available clean surfaces. "Look up," she instructed, and when he did she pressed a corner just below his lash-line, removing the last traces of blood.

"Thank you," he said softly.

Abby smiled and dropped her eyes...

"Oh, your shirt..." She touched the stains, dark red against the ivory silk. "If you put that straight into cold water, maybe the stains won't set..." she began unfastening the buttons.

Eric stilled her hands. "Don't bother," he said. "I'll throw it out."

"But it's a beautiful shirt..." She resumed with the buttons.

"I have other beautiful shirts," he told her. "How often to you imagine I get blood on my clothes?"

Abby paused and smiled, resting her palm against his chest. She looked up into his eyes. "Often," she murmured.

"Often," he agreed. He held her eyes with his and when he bent his head to press his lips against hers, the bloodied wash-cloth fell forgotten to the floor.

Nipping gently at his mouth, Abby reached up to stroke his cheek and he turned into her caress, kissing her fingers as he bared his fangs. He turned slowly back to her.

"I won't hurt you," he told her.

"I know..."

She pressed her thumb against his lips, forcing them open and drew the pad down the length of one fang. He sat motionless while she inspected first one, then the other, then pressed her mouth against his, feeling the hard sharp weapons beneath his soft lips.

Turning her gently in his arms, Eric lowered Abby to the bed, his lips never leaving hers as he pushed the straps of her nightdress off her shoulders and dragged it down her body. She kicked out as it caught against her feet and gasped as his fingertips brushed her nipples. He sat back, then, and tore the shirt off, sending the silk-covered buttons flying. Abby winced.

"If I'm going to throw it out anyway..."

"You wouldn't _have_ to if you just soaked it in cold water..."

"Oh, shut up..." He silenced her with his mouth, slipping one arm beneath her bottom to raise her hips as he entered her. He paused to gaze into her face, waiting until her eyes opened and stared up at him before beginning to move slowly inside her. He watched as her eyes rolled back and fluttered closed again, smiling to himself before losing himself in her warmth, moving quicker as he felt her beginning to move with him.

"Abby!" Gasped Eric, and her eyes flew open. "I need to..."

She lifted her chin, exposing the carotid artery in her straining throat. "Do it," she told him, and he plunged his fangs into her soft skin, moaning in ecstasy as her blood spurted into his mouth even as his seed spurted below.

# # #

Lying side by side, Eric traced his fingers around the puncture marks he'd made in Abby's neck. She winced slightly, and he sank his fangs into his wrist, holding it to her lips.

"Drink," he said. "You'll heal quicker." He allowed her a few swallows of his blood before gently disengaging her mouth. The wounds in his wrist healed almost instantly, but those in her neck did not. "What are you?" He murmured.

"I'm not human, am I?" Abby asked, her voice small.

Eric shook his head. "No," he said. "Not entirely, anyway."

"Then what am I?"

"I don't know." He traced the shadows under her eyes with his thumb. "You don't heal like a human. My blood should heal you instantly." He propped himself up and touched the still-visible scar between her small breasts. "I can't believe you didn't die that night, knowing how slowly you heal," he said. "I can't believe a creature exists more fragile than a human..."

By way of changing the subject, Abby ran one finger-tip over his perfect teeth, smiling slightly as Eric's fangs popped out. "Do they always come out? When you're..."

"Aroused? Yes."

"And you have to bite...?"

"I don't_ have_ to..."

"It is... unsatisfactory if you don't, though?"

"Yes," he murmured, retracting his fangs. "If you won't heal when I bite you, though..."

Abby touched her neck. "They don't hurt anymore," she offered.

Eric inspected the wounds closely. "They _do _look a little smaller," he allowed, frowning.

"Don't frown, it is unbecoming," she teased him.

"You are a cheeky little thing..." He looked at her closely. "Perhaps you are part-pixie." He touched her hair and her nose. "Although, pixies are in fact tiny..."

"Because I'm so enormous and all..."

"You _are_ very small," he agreed, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her close. "I was worried I might break you."

"Well then," said Abby, beginning to grin. "Perhaps next time, _I_ should be on top."

Eric considered this. "That might be interesting," he said. "I've never had a woman on top before."

Abby raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? One thousand years and you've never tried the 'submissionary position'?"

Eric shrugged, half smiling. He shook his head.

"Strangely, I have no trouble believing that," Abby said drily. "It is, like, fairly standard..." she faltered. "I think."

"You think?"

"Yeah..."

"Another memory resurfacing...?" Eric teased.

Abby flushed and looked away. "I don't know," she murmured.

Eric pressed his fingers to her chin and turned her face towards him. "I don't think you were a virgin," he said gently. He touched the marks on her neck. "You didn't taste like one."

"By the time you did _that_, I wouldn't have _been _a virgin anymore," Abby pointed out.

"No," he agreed. "In fact, you don't taste like _any_ human I've ever fed from."

"No? How do I taste?"

"Like..." It was Eric's turn to look embarrassed.

"What?" Abby said warily. She caught an image from his mind and her mouth thinned. She pulled away from him.

"Abby..."

"I taste like you imagine_ Sookie_ would taste," she stated. "Right?"

"That wasn't what I was thinking..."

"Eric Northman, you are a terrible liar!"

"Okay, that was... kind of what I was thinking," he admitted. "But it's really not like that..."

"This whole vampire ownership thing," said Abby. "Does it go both ways?"

"I don't follow..."

"Do _you_ belong to _me _like _I _belong to _you_?"

Eric shook his head. "No, it doesn't work that way."

"That is such bullshit!"

"No, it is simply the way it has always been..."

"So... so another vampire isn't allowed to look at me sideways but it's perfectly alright for _you _to fantasise about another woman while you're in bed with me?"

"Abby, you're twisting my words..."

"They're your _thoughts_," Abby corrected, rounding on him. "Your mouth can lie but your mind cannot."

"Even if I _was_ fantasising about her – and I_ wasn't_ – she wouldn't touch me with a 10 foot barge-pole and you know it!"

"Not really the point..."

"We have a blood bond..."

"You have a blood bond with Lafayette Reynolds too, but I don't see him wiggling _his_ little black ass in your head!"

_**Weight Of The World**_

Eric glanced up and then covered his eyes with his hand. _Of all the nights_, he thought, ruefully.

"Want me to kick her out?" Pam asked, sensing his discomfort.

"No, I'll deal with it..." He uncoiled himself from his chair and sauntered over to greet the newcomer.

"Sookie," he drawled. "Always a pleasure..."

"I'm not here for pleasure, Eric."

"What a shame. Business then? Excellent. I require a new dancer..."

Sookie followed his gaze to the raised platform and the mostly naked girl gyrating and spinning herself around the newly installed pole.

"I'm rather taken with this pole-dancing phenomenon, it's supposed to be marvellous for toning one's physique," Eric told Sookie, giving her a blatantly obvious once-over. "I'm sure you'd look magnificent up there..."

"Eric!" Cried Sookie, outraged. "This has got to stop!"

Eric pursed his lips and looked away, ashamed in spite of himself. "I know..." he muttered, slumping visibly.

"Honestly, it's like you are _deliberately _trying to annoy me! Is that it? Are you _trying _to aggravate me?" She folded her arms and glared across the bar, her eyes resting on Eric's human companion.

"Yes... no... I don't know." Eric looked miserable. "I apologise..."

Sookie's head whipped around in astonishment. "Apologise? Are you ill?" She stared up at him, her inability to read vampiric minds no barrier to understanding what he was thinking. Her expression softened and she sighed, resting one hand on his arm. "Abby giving you a hard time?" She asked, gently.

Eric nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving the girl.

Sookie looked over at Abby again. She was watching them watching her, her dark eyes wide and miserable. A brand-new silk scarf was knotted around her neck.

"She kicked me out of my own bed," the vampire offered, his voice low and furious.

"Ouch," said Sookie, trying not to smile. _And now I know she's been _in_ your bed_, she thought.

"She's mad at me because she thinks I think about_ you_ too much."

"Do you?"

"Probably..."

"And are your thoughts of a filthy and carnal nature?"

"No!" Eric glared at her. "Of course they aren't!"

Sookie raised her eyebrows at him and looked pointedly at the pole-dancer again.

"In spite of what I just... Look, forget I said anything." He stole a glance at her, then looked away. "And for God's sake, don't tell Bill," he muttered.

Sookie rolled her eyes. "I know better than _that_, Eric," she said. "He'd kill you."

"He'd try..."

Sookie narrowed her eyes at him. "Eric, have you been doing and saying things simply to aggravate me... this whole time?"

Eric rolled his eyes and looked sulky. "Maybe..." he growled.

Sookie chuckled mirthlessly. "You're as bad as my brother," she said. "Dealing with you is like being a kid again."

"I worry about you," Eric told her. "You get into trouble on a regular basis, you almost get yourself killed more often than I care to think about, how Bill can even let you out of his sight..."

"Is it possible your feelings towards me are brotherly, Eric?" Sookie suggested.

"It's possible, yes..." He said slowly. His expression brightened as he turned to her. "Yes!" He turned on his heel and began striding towards the bar, and Abby.

"Woah, woah there!" Cried Sookie, grabbing his arm. He eyed her askance. "Why don't you let me? You'll probably just..." she grimaced. "Mess it up," she finished.

# # #

When Eric found Abby, she was curled up on a Chesterfield in his library, reading a book. She ignored him when he cleared his throat.

"What is this?"

Abby glanced up at the item in Eric's hands, and went back to her book. "Your shirt."

"Well, yes I can see that..."

"Then why did you ask?"

Eric frowned. "You cleaned it..."

"Yes."

"You repaired it..."

Abby raised her eyes to the vampire again and glared at him. "Any idea when you might be arriving at a point?" She asked.

Eric sighed. "No point," he murmured. "Just... uh... thank you."

"You're welcome."

Eric shifted from one foot to the other as Abby watched him in her peripheral vision, pretending to read. If she hadn't known for sure it was impossible, she could believe he needed to use the bathroom.

"I know you left_ Fangtasia_ without consulting me," he said.

"And?"

"How did you get home?"

"I hitch-hiked..."

Abby flinched as Eric roared inarticulately.

"Eric, I didn't really hitch-hike, I'm not _that_ stupid," she told him when he'd finished venting his spleen.

"I... what?"

"Sookie drove me home."

Eric's mouth dropped open in astonishment.

"Close your mouth please, Eric, we are not a codfish." Abby smiled inwardly. She had enjoyed watching _Mary Poppins_ and had been waiting for an opportunity to use that line.

"After everything, you allowed_ Sookie_ to drive you home...?"

Abby sighed and set aside her book, giving Eric her full attention. "She is the most annoyingly earnest and sugary sweet human I have ever met," she told him. "But she is also honest. She gave me her entire history with you, leaving nothing out." Abby looked pointedly at him. "Perhaps if you had done the same from the beginning..."

"I'm sorry, Abby. It has been... unclear to me what my true feelings for Sookie _were_ until very recently..."

"When_ she_ pointed them out to you?"

"Yes..."

Abby rolled her eyes. "You are so... _dense_... sometimes."

"And you are insolent!" Eric snapped back. "I do not normally tolerate such treatment from humans..."

"Eric, we both know I'm not entirely human, if at all..."

"I know," he said, making an effort to reign in his temper. _Why does she have the ability to bring out the worst in me? _He wondered. _And suddenly now I'm the bad-guy, instead of Sookie..._

"Sookie was never the bad-guy," Abby said quietly.

"Did I say that out loud?"

"You might as well have." Abby beckoned to him and Eric knelt before her chair, resting his head in her lap. "Sookie made you feel human."

Eric nodded.

"If I had come to you before you knew her, I could not have expected such tender treatment from you..."

Eric raised his head. "Probably not," he agreed. "Am I forgiven?"

Abby touched his hair. "Of course..."

"Good." He uncoiled himself and pulled her to her feet. "And about you being human... or not..." his lips twitched into a smile. "I have a theory."

_**Your Star**_

"This is, by far, the stupidest idea you've ever had," Pam drawled, raising the crossbow and lining Eric up in the sight.

"I don't think this is a good idea either," Abby put in, eying the weapon nervously.

Pam shot her a look. "For once we're in complete agreement."

"I'll alert the media," Eric said drily, and was rewarded with identical looks of derision from Abby and Pam. _Well, perhaps they'll bond over their opinion of my intellect_, he thought.

"Stand over there and I'll test the range of this thing," Pam told Abby.

"Bite me..."

"Can I bite her?" Pam asked Eric.

_Or not_, he sighed. "You do and I'll kill you," Eric said out loud.

"Spoil sport..."

"Okay, you stand here..." he directed Pam to one end of the clearing. "Abby, stay up that end too. I'll..." in the blink of an eye he'd moved to the other end of the clearing. "Ready?" He called.

"You had better be right about this, Eric," Pam called back, raising the cross-bow and taking aim. "There is going to be a _lot_ of mess to clean up if you're wrong!"

"It'll work..."

"Are you sure enough to bet your life?"

"I'm sure..."

"I'm not," Abby muttered.

"Just fire the stupid..." Before he could finish his sentence, Abby was standing beside him, holding the quivering bolt in one fist, her eyes wide and terrified. Eric pulled his shirt up and watched as a tiny puncture mark healed itself. He poked his finger through a hole in the fabric of his shirt. "You did it," he told Abby, smiling slightly.

"That was way too close," Pam said, inspecting his shirt.

"But she did it," said Eric. "_You _couldn't have moved that fast. _I_ couldn't have moved that fast."

"So what, she just popped out of existence next to me and popped back in next to you in time to catch the bolt?" Pam asked.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," he said.

"I teleported," Abby whispered.

"You teleported," Eric agreed. "Want to try it again...?"

"No!" Abby cried, dropping the bolt on the ground.

"Absolutely not," Pam said firmly.

"I didn't mean with the crossbow," said Eric.

Abby focussed on the far end of the clearing, then closed her eyes and cleared her mind, thinking on of her intended destination. She opened her eyes.

"Well, that _was_ something," Pam drawled.

She hadn't moved.

# # #

They reconvened in Eric's office, Pam twirling the cross-bow bolt like a baton. Eric nodded to Chow, inviting him to offer his opinions.

"So..." Eric began. "We have... teleportation?" The others nodded. "Extremely high intelligence. An ability to pick up foreign languages."

"Telepathy," Chow put in.

"I'm not telepathic, they're just images and feelings, not concise thoughts," Abby reminded him.

"It's still a form of telepathy."

"She's fragile. She doesn't heal quickly, even with vampire blood..."

"She's charming..."

Abby gaped at Pam in astonishment. She caught the image of a codfish from Eric's mind and snapped her mouth shut.

"Well, she _is_," Pam said defensively. She rolled her eyes at their identical expressions. "She receives more tips than any other employee here... including the dancers." She told them. "Customers – human and vampire alike – hit on her _every _single night..."

"What...?"

"In spite of the widely known fact that she belongs to the oldest and most powerful vampire in Louisiana."

His fangs bared, Eric glared murderously at Pam. Abby chewed on her bottom lip and looked sheepish.

"And yet," Pam went on. "Every single time she manages to diffuse the situation without any bloodshed... and they _still_ tip her in the most obscenely ostentatious manner."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Eric snarled at Abby.

Abby shrugged. "No need," she told him, gesturing at Pam. "I diffuse the situation." She looked pointedly at his fangs. "_Without_ bloodshed."

Eric made a wordless growling noise, then retracted his fangs.

Pam smirked at him. "And she can get _you_ to do anything she wants."

"She can_not_!"

Abby thought about it for a moment, then pressed her lips together, trying not to smile. "I kind of can, though."

"She can," Chow agreed.

"If that's not charm, I don't know what is," said Pam. "Petty, manipulative charm..."

"And... there's the back-hand," muttered Abby.

"So what is something small, fragile, smart, fast, charming, cheeky, manipulative, petty..."

"Hey!"

"And able to disappear the moment you take your eyes off her..." Chow said slowly, beginning to smile.

Pam gazed at him blankly for a moment and then gasped. "Oh my God!" She cried. "You're right! Oh my _gawd_!" She broke into gales of laughter.

Abby started, eyes wide and astonished at Pam's usual Ice Queen persona taken over completely with mirth. "That can't be good," she moaned, turning slowly to Eric. His face was carefully blank. "Eric?"

His lips twitched. He shook his head, clearly trying very hard not to laugh.

"Eric?" Abby repeated. She concentrated and plucked a perfectly formed image from his mind: a tiny, bearded, red-headed man clothed entirely in green and smoking a pipe... upside down. She narrowed her eyes and pulled her Ipad from her bag, navigating to Wikipedia. "I need a name." She looked at each of them in turn.

"Aye, to be sure..." Chow murmured, setting Pam off again. Bloody tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. Eric sniggered.

"Eric..."

"Abby... _hjärtat..._don't believe everything you read on the internet..."

"A name," Abby demanded.

Eric closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. "Leprechaun..." he whispered. Pam and Chow leaned against one another, helpless with laughter. Blood trickled down their cheeks and splattered on their clothes. Eric grinned in spite of himself.

Abby scrolled through the information quickly and looked up at Eric, her eyes stormy. "How much of this information is bullshit?" She asked him.

"Most of it, probably..."

"But if ye leads us to yer pot o gold, lassie, oy'd be sure te tell ye..."

"Oh Pam that was terrible! You sound more like a pirate than an Irishman..."

Eric laughed. "Hyenas," he chuckled, turning back to Abby.

Her chair was empty.

"_Skit_," he swore softly, still laughing. He turned in a slow circle, his expression softening when he realised where she was.

Chow had pulled an enormous handkerchief from him pocket and was mopping his face clean, and Pam sighed and checked her appearance in a hand-mirror. She glanced at Abby's empty chair and rolled her eyes.

"Stormed out, did she?"

"She's at home," Eric told her.

"She teleported?" Pam arranged her mouth into an exaggerated pout. "Awwww. We hurt her feelings."

"You think?"

# # #

"Okay, I've divided this stuff into myths and facts." Abby handed Eric the lists she'd made. He perused them for a moment and glanced at her.

"No pot of gold?"

"Nope."

"You sure? I was hoping to put in a plasma screen..."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"No shoe fetish..."

"_Pam _is more leprechaun than _I_ am on that point."

"True," he agreed. "The ability to grant wishes..."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I _can't _do that, but I think I see where that came from," said Abby. She waited while Eric set aside the list. "It comes back to what Pam said about charm. I might not _actually _have the ability to grant wishes in exchange for freedom if captured, but I could probably make someone believe I could. Plus the telepathy..."

"I thought you said it _wasn't_ telepathy..."

"Semantics," said Abby with a wave of her hand. "I can see images at the forefront of people's minds, right? So... I tell you I can grant any wish..." she paused and plucked the first image she saw in Eric's mind "...and _then_ I tell you that I will indeedtake off all my clothes and fuck you senseless."

"Impressive..."

"You're not a difficult sell."

Eric grinned and picked up the list again. "Anything _else_ before you grant my wish?"

"Take your eyes off me for a split second and I disappear."

Eric stared at her.

"Seriously, I can't do it if you're looking at me..."

"Alright..." he sighed, rolling his eyes. He blinked at her empty chair. "That _is _impressive," he murmured.

"I know, right!" Abby exclaimed from behind him. "Also, I'm not a tiny bearded man with red hair smoking a pipe."

"Hmm." Eric slid his arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap. "Well, perhaps you're a Northern Ireland leprechaun. The northern Irish tend to have dark hair and eyes."

"You're hilarious."

"You owe me a wish..."

_**Tourniquet**_

Eric gazed at the photographs and read the newspaper clipping carefully before sliding them back into the yellow envelope. He glanced up at Pam.

"Do you know the vampire responsible for this?" He asked.

"I know her," Pam told him.

Eric stared at the envelope on his desk for a long time.

"Eric..."

"I need to take care of this," he said.

Pam touched her forehead as though she was getting a headache. "And I suppose," she said, closing her eyes, "telling you it's a bad idea to involve yourself in vengeance for the sake of a human who can't even remember is completely pointless..."

"Yes..."

"Because you're going to do it anyway, and even worse..." she opened her eyes and fixed him with a furious glare. "You're going to make me stay here to ensure no-one harms a hair on her precious little head."

"I really appreciate it, Pam."

"You owe me big time..."

# # #

Eric listened to the shower running overhead and leaned into the fireplace to stoke the flames. He took out the yellow envelope and sat as he pulled the photos and newspaper clipping out.

The first photo showed a pretty baby girl with dark hair and eyes, squealing delightedly at the camera, her little bow-lips shining with dribble. He turned the photo over and read the looping girlish script: _Samantha-Raine, 1__st__ b/day._ He dropped the photo into the flames and watched as it curled and bubbled and turned black.

The second photo. The same little girl, now four years old and dressed in leggings, sneakers and a tu-tu, smiled shyly at the camera. Sitting on the stoop of an old house, shading her eyes with one hand and holding the little girl in her lap, was Abby. Eric turned this photo over as well. The same hand had written: _Sammie and Mommy, Sammie's 1__st__ day of pre-school: WHAT A BIG GIRL!_ The dots on the i's were tiny love-hearts. The second photo joined the first.

Eric took out the newspaper clipping and read the headline: **Child Slaughtered By Vamps! Single Mom Missing, Presumed Dead**. He didn't bother reading the rest of the article – he had it memorised. As he dropped the clipping into the fire along with the envelope, he saw how it had been...

_Mommy returning from a late shift at the diner, stepping over toys and books to turn the television volume low – Abby Cadabby and her Sesame Street friends capering on the screen. Mommy walking down the hallway, calling the babysitter's name softly so as not to wake her daughter, a little concerned but unworried. The back door of the house torn off its hinges, blood splattering the frame and the tree-ferns beyond. Mommy screaming her baby's name and blood streaming down the babysitter girl's chin and her fangs gleaming in the moonlight in the back yard..._

_He saw Mommy's terrified flight from one place to another in the blink of an eye, saw her lying catatonic with grief and horror in the woods as rain pattered around her and the sun and moon rose and set in sequence. Weeks of days and nights stripping her mind clean._

_He saw a _Fellowship of the Sun _sniper in the parking lot of _Fangtasia_, cross bow at the ready._

_He saw the young woman who was no longer Mommy, but not yet Abby Redfern, raise herself from the leaf litter, narrow her eyes and disappear, only to reappear in front of an ancient startled vampire, gasping and dying with a cross-bow bolt between her breasts._

Eric lifted his head. The hissing of the shower had ceased and he could hear cheerful humming. He bent over the stir up the fire, breaking the ashy pieces of photograph and paper into dust. He listened to the whisper of bare feet across the carpet.

"It's a little warm for an open fire, isn't it?" Abby asked. She untied her robe and dropped it onto one of the chairs, fanning herself with one hand.

Eric turned, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Warm is good," he told her. "Warm means less clothes..." he ran his fingertips down her bare arms and she shivered in delight. "And the light is beautiful on your skin."

# # #

Afterwards, they lay naked in the flickering light, Abby dozing in Eric's arms as he stared into the flames. He was completely unable to glamour her, and should she ever remember anything about her former life he would be equally unable to make her forget it, but he could still draw on a thousand years worth of skill and experience to bring unfathomable pleasure to her fragile body.

He could play her nerve endings like a finely tuned instrument until perspiration glowed on her skin and her breath came in sweet panting gasps and she begged him mutely to take her to the next level.

He could draw cries and moans from her lips, and silence her with a single touch and she would surrender to him completely... but she did so of her own free will and he could force nothing from her without her consent – however inarticulately given.

He could lose himself entirely in her warmth, and her blood, knowing he was incapable of hurting her physically. That her hold over his mind was so complete she guided his movements to take her beyond pleasure to the very threshold of pain... and no further.

And she could access his mind. The knowledge he held would need to be kept hidden – or disguised so completely that Abby never equated the dead child and missing mother with her own lost memories.

Eric dragged his fingertips along her bare arm, and Abby stirred, turning in his arms and smiling up at him sleepily.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I must have dozed off."

He pressed his lips against hers. "It's almost morning anyway," he told her, scooping her into his arms.

Settled in his bed, Abby slipped easily back into sleep, but Eric lay awake for a moment, watching her. He smiled humourlessly. Staking the baby-killing vampire who passed herself off as a gum-popping teenager wouldn't bring Abby's daughter back. But it sure had made him feel better...

_**My Last Breath**_

"Thank you, but I'm spoken for," Abby told the boy, flashing him a smile.

His smile faded. "Yer not a vamp, are ya?"

"No," said Abby.

"Yer a fangbanger!"

"Tell me, did you come to a vampire bar to hit on non-vampire waitresses?"

"Well... no."

"See that red-head over there?" Abby lifted her chin and the young man followed her gaze. "Why don't you..." Abby began assembling bottles, a ceramic shaker and a martini glass "... go over and introduce yourself?" She mixed two parts B-positive with one O-negative in the shaker.

"Is she even legal?"

"She probably wasn't when she was turned but she might be by now. Her name is Jessica."

"She's definitely a vampa?"

"Yes," said Abby. She added a shot of vodka and a shake of Tabasco sauce. "And given that her Maker is not currently present..." she popped the shaker into the microwave "...you probably have a better than even chance of making a positive impression." She turned away as the microwave beeped at her. "Without having your throat torn out by Bill Compton..." she muttered to herself.

"Oh-okay," stammered the young man. He ran nervous fingers through his hair.

"Especially..." she poured the mixture into the martini glass and added a lime wedge "... if you take this with you." She pushed the glass in his direction.

"What is it?"

"_Very_ Bloody Mary," she told him. She smiled. "That'll be twenty-five dollars."

"Right," murmured the young man. He dropped a fifty dollar note onto the bar without looking at her. "Keep the change..."

"Of course," said Abby. She dropped the fifty in the jar next to the register, fished out a twenty and a five and rung up the sale.

"So you _do_ have a pot of gold, after all," Eric commented, nodding at the jar.

"Pot of greens more like it," Abby replied. "But otherwise... yes."

"So I can order my plasma screen..."

"Uh-uh," Abby cut in, shaking her finger at him. "These are tips, they're to be shared between the bar and waiting staff at the end of the week."

"Whose idiotic idea was _that_?" He scoffed. Noting her expression, he cleared his throat. "Sorry." Then: "_you_ earned most of that money. Probably all of it."

"The others earn tips, too, it all goes in the jar," Abby told him. "That's how it works."

"That is_ not _how it works..."

"It is, Eric."

He glared at her for a moment. "At the end of the week, half the money goes to you and the rest is divided among the other staff."

A young vampire waitress dropped her tray on the bar. "That isn't _fair_!" She whined.

Eric turned on her and fixed her with his cool gaze. "You're fired," he told her.

The girl's lip trembled, then she untied her apron and threw it at Eric before stalking away.

"That wasn't very nice," Abby told him.

"I'll say," agreed Eric. "What a bitch!"

"That wasn't very nice _of you_," Abby amended.

"She just wants to take your money..."

"So do you!"

"Yes, but..." he smiled slowly and slipped his arm around her waist "... you belong to me... and what's mine is... mine."

Abby held still long enough for him to kiss her, then pulled away. "You are so full of shit."

"I _love_ it when you talk dirty in Swedish!"

"You love it when I talk dirty in _any_ language."

"True..." Eric grinned, sauntering away.

Abby turned to another customer and flashed her warmest smile, switching back to English. "What can I get for you?"

"How about... you?"

"Thank you, but I'm spoken for..."

# # #

"So, tonight's the big night," Pam drawled.

"Yep..." Abby glanced at her and looked away, fixed smile belying her fluttering stomach. She looked at Pam again and chewed her lip. "Will it hurt?"

"I don't remember..."

"It won't be comfortable," said Eric, joining them at the bar. "But I'll be with you the whole time. It'll be_ my_ blood, _my_ essence..."

"_My _puke," Pam rolled her eyes. "If I were still capable of puking..."

Abby watched as she stalked away. "She doesn't like this very much," she commented.

"She likes it better than she's letting on," Eric told her. "Don't let her fool you. Deep down she knows she's going to like you a whole lot better as a vampire than she ever did as a human..."

"Leprechaun," Abby corrected.

"Vampire leprechaun," Eric mused. "You are going to be so powerful..."

# # #

Pam watched Abby watching Eric with his dancer, his mouth clamped to her neck as her eyes rolled back in her head. When he had finished feeding he pushed the girl away gently and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

Abby's face was an unreadable mask.

"He still has to feed, you know," Pam told her.

"So do you," said Abby, turning to the other woman. "So do _I_." She shrugged as if to say _what of it?_

"And he's still going to fuck them..."

"I know that, Pam." Abby smiled slightly. "But they mean nothing to him," she glanced at Eric, picking her own image out of his mind. She smiled. "Less than nothing. And he would dismiss each and every one of them and never touch another woman again if I asked him to, so..." she shrugged again.

Pam snorted, privately agreeing with the younger vampire.

"Besides," Abby went on. "There is more to death than feeding and fucking."

"Such as?" Abby slid a thick textbook across the bar to Pam, who raised an eyebrow. "You're going to medical school?"

"Hell no!" Abby said. "Medical school would be dreadfully tedious and a pointless waste of my time."

"Then why bother with 'Gray's Anatomy'?" Pam asked. "What's the point?"

"The point," Abby told her, "is learning. Knowledge. There is no greater power."

Pam snorted again. "Bor-_ing_," she sing-songed, sauntering away.

Abby grinned. "We'll have to agree to disagree on that one," she said softly.

# # #

The young man watched the girl behind the bar. He knew she 'belonged' to the vampire Northman – whatever _that_ meant to a bunch of blood-sucking freaks. She'd stepped in front of his cross-bow – how she'd done it he had no idea, she'd come from nowhere – but it hadn't killed her.

But he had seen her feeding. Seen her fangs. She hadn't been a blood-sucker _then_, but she was _now..._

The young man smiled to himself. "Two for the price of one," he murmured, imagining Steve Newlin's reaction when he told him Northman's shield had been... neutralised. "Two for the price of one..."

_**My Immortal**_

Abby fastened the clasp of the fine gold chain around her neck and let the heavy gold locket drop between her breasts. She picked it up and thumbed open the catch, touching the tiny photograph reverently with the tips of her fingers. She'd had trouble finding it: Eric had destroyed all the others.

Abby smiled, and the tiny face smiled back at her, frozen in time, eternal infant with enormous dark eyes and a shiny bow-like mouth.

"Sammie," she murmured.

She closed the locket and tucked it inside her clothes.


End file.
